truck drivers and they put large rocks behind our wheels. This would surely work! We rolled back until we hit the side of the mountain and went no further. Meherjee talked with the bus driver. It was now best for all to get out of the bus and he would drive up the hill. He drove and drove all the way to the top, we ran behind. Everyone had such a good time running and shouting. . .all the way up the hill!!

We were sitting again, cramped and hot. Our driver and everyone on the road was honking horns even if there was no one around to honk at. There were two rest stops on the road to Poona. In each was a canteen with cool water which we were not allowed to drink, fresh fruits which we were not allowed to eat and pastries we couldn't buy. There were some "uninvited guests" on all the food and water and they could easily give us "Poona Belly!". . . otherwise known as amoebic dysentery. The only toilet on the road was a tree or a bush. The only seat to rest on was the dirt ground. All around the rest stations were sleeping migrants. They didn't have anything to sleep in but the clothes they wore.

As dawn approached, we passed the flat lands and the farm lands. In small villages men were up and starting to wake the stock. Down through the ravines walked women and girls with large brass water pots on their heads. 5000 years ago the same story unfolded the same way. It was as if here we were on our way to meet the Lord Krishna. Three hours after the sun was up, we finally arrived in Poona. It took us about eight hours to make a 199-mile journey!

David Wieterson tells of the first day of darshan: Thursday, April l0:

Words detract. Pure unadulterated beauty today. An unbelievable love feast. Francis read his poetry and gave his talk on "The Mighty Beloved."* Eruch and Jal and all the mandali and workers were introduced. Murshida looked powerful as did all. We saw Baba's room and chair which no one was previously allowed to touch. His sandals were there. Mehera was beautiful and beyond words. So were all the rest. Jai Baba, forever!

* see page 34

John Krchniak describes this day:

A large photo of Baba was sitting in His chair, garlanded. We opened with the Master's Prayer and then Mehera greeted us with "Jai Baba." She is beautiful, and again the purity of love that emanated from her was overpowering. Eruch was, of course, in charge. . . if one can use "in charge" with Baba everywhere . . . and acted as "Master of Ceremonies." The women mandali sang the arti to Baba; the Gujarati arti which Baba composed in the early days for His disciples to sing. Mani had spoken briefly, immediately after Mehera greeted us, and welcomed us all. The Arti was very moving . . . and kept our concentration on the picture in Baba's chair. Needless to say, tears flowed freely. Then Eruch spoke and was followed by Francis Brabazon briefly reading some of his poetry. At 10 a.m., one hour after we had arrived, darshan began. . but oh, so differently than had been imagined. The flesh-body was in The Tomb, and we were receiving darshan from His other "body " and could only see an empty chair with His picture sitting in it. The line formed from the women's side of the room, and in a very orderly manner, one-by-one, we went to Baba's chair and did obeisance. It had a pattern to it as we filed by . . . the embracing of His hands and kissing His Feet. It was emotionally most moving . . . one would think that we were embracing space . . . something in an empty chair. . . and it could have been quite humorous. But the silence was so powerful, the room so charged with His Love, that one's heart was pounding with the beauty of the responding love within us. When my turn came, I was suddenly very happy. I resisted the impulse to kiss His picture, and followed like a sheep in the pattern set by the previous devotees.

I kissed His hands and His feet and thanked Him for coming again. I was bubbling over with happiness as I searched my way through the other room, down around the building on the veranda, to the line waiting to sign the register and enter Baba's room. When my turn came to enter His room. . . beautifully and simply furnished. . . I, too, touched everything and did obeisance where the spirit guided me. His sadra and Baba-pink jacket, His chair, His bed, His footstool, His cup and table